chess
by sexyvanillatiger
Summary: Once the game is over, the king and the pawn go back into the same box. Not to say that Starfleet is like chess, because it isn't.  kirk/chekov; Slash.


Once the game is over, the king and the pawn go back into the same box.

Not to say that Starfleet is like chess, because it isn't.

But if it were, it would be a very one-sided game of chess, to say the least. It isn't that Commander Spock is toughened and shatterproof, or the USS Enterprise is impenetrable, though the two underlying facts are contributory, notwithstanding. It isn't quite that the crew is undivided and ardent with every mission that is thrown their way, nomatter the lack of lives depending on their success or not, yet this determination heavily assists in many a grave rescue and risky situation. It isn't that Dr. McCoy is the most capable man in his field beneath his outermost bitterness, or that Mr. Scott is the innovative genius who perfects every minute detail he gets his hands on, though it's easier to count the number of times the two haven't been on the metaphorical frontline than the times in which they have. In truth, it's not the queen, nor the rooks, nor knights, nor bishops, nor the pawns.

On the grandest of scales, the USS Enterprise is the most likely candidate for the place of the Queen, he's thought enough in this sense to figure that much out. But this is not quite the scale he imagines, in his mind. In his mind, the board is whoever the Enterprise comes across and themselves. Aboard the ship are the rooks, bishops, knights and many, many scattering pawns, working endlessly to defeat the enemy ship, and whenever a pawn is captured...or more, destroyed, as this is real life, another one will rise up to take its place. And while it's not often the Enterprise requires a replacement pawn, it cannot be said that even the pawns of the Enterprise are expendable.

Maybe the harder part comes in categorizing the rest of the ship. The officers, the ranks that cannot be as easily distinguished into categories of who moves how. Pavel can't even figure out, in chess, who he would classify as more important. It all depended on who was in the best position for the easiest, most tactical strike. Pawns destory pawns. Everyone else is caught in a madness of opportunity.

After a long moment of thought and an even longer moment spent perusing the layout of the board that he can see Jim and Spock playing on every once in awhile, a good while after the captain's last loss, he pulls the chair out from under the table. Currently, the room is empty, and he sits opposite of the commander's seat, eyes scanning over the pieces, each of which are placed perfectly in the middle of each's own square. He reaches forward, tracing his finger over the face of a knight. He drops his hand on the side of the table after a moment, eyelids heavy and drooping as his vision scans over the rest of the pieces.

A pawn, perhaps. He is a pawn. Replaceable, because an engineer as gifted as Scotty could easily program a computer to do exactly what he does currently if there were nobody to rise to the occasion. He knows this well enough from all the experience he's gained from working with the Scott. His place on the ship isn't as particularly important as his friends on the bridge make him think it is. So deep in his self-deprivation, he doesn't even notice that Commander Spock has taken his seat opposite the young ensign.

"Do you play, Mr. Chekov?"

"No," he responds quietly, looking up with mild surprise in his sleepy gaze.

"Then I will assume that you do not understand the value of each piece." Spock places his finger on the head of a pawn, looking up into Chekov's eyes. "You are no more a pawn than I am. Everything you do would be irreplaceable if, by any means, were you to fail in your duties." Chekov nods, looking back down at the pawn, once more. "I have faith that if you were a pawn, you would move no less than the maximum two squares every turn you have." Spock takes a black pawn from Chekov's end of the board, positioning it two squares up and to the right of the pawn already in play. "The reason I do not believe you are a pawn, Mr. Chekov," he begins, moving the white Pavel-pawn up two squares, "is because it would be too easy to do this." He moves the opposing pawn to the square right behind Pavel-pawn, taking the defeated pawn and setting it to the side of the board. "En passant is a move which can defeat a pawn that has advanced more quickly than that of its comrades." His gaze, hardened with knowledge, softens into something more human than Pavel is used to seeing. "But you have yet to show that sort of weakness." And with that, the Vulcan stands, pushing the chair back into place before silently heading back into the hallway and, presumably, back to his room.

Pavel watches the board with the utmost intrigue, and he reaches forward, fingering the white Pavel-pawn. After a moment, he returns the pieces to the box beside the board, placing them carefully in, one after another. He stands and follows Spock's footsteps into the hall, taking a turn or two before finding himself at the Captain's door. He punches in a code and the door swishes open for him, closing once he's out of the way of the threshold. He strips his boots, his shirt, and his pants, not quite bothering to replace them with pajamas before he slips beneath the covers. The current occupant of the bed rolls over and engulfs him in a too-warm, too-comforting grip that he is immediately infected with, and so he sinks into the bed, into the sheets, into the warm body that's cushioning his head.

"You feelin' alright?" The slurred speech comes from above, and Pavel wonders if Kirk is actually awake or just halfway there.

"Yes, Keptin."

"What have I told you about that…." There's a hint of agitation in the voice, though it seems to be easily masked with an ease that only he can manage.

"Sorry. Jim." His own accent is deepened with his fatigue, and he yawns against the warm flesh of Kirk's chest.

"G'night," comes the returning yawn.

"Spokoĭnoĭ nochi, kapitan."

The biggest difference Pavel can imagine between the Enterprise and chess is probably that, whereas the King and Pawn go back to the same box, so do the rooks and bishops and knights and queen. But at the end of the game, it's only Jim and Pavel in the captain's quarters.


End file.
